


The Best Part of Waking Up

by penguinutopia



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Breakfast, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinutopia/pseuds/penguinutopia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Blaine makes breakfast, and one time someone makes breakfast for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Part of Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hedgerose and I have been writing our Blaine Big Bang, and there's a couple of breakfast scenes, so then this happened. I’ve been told this fic has both all the angst and all the cavity-inducing fluff. Just so you know.

i. _Seacht_

Blaine Anderson opens his eyes to see his grandmother grinning at him from the doorway. She crooks a finger at him and gestures to the kitchen behind her with her head. Blaine quietly scoots down from the top bunk and pads towards her. She ruffles his hair as he passes, and he smiles a little to himself.

“Hey, kiddo,” Grandma Siobhan says after she closes the door behind. “Wanna help me make pancakes?” Blaine nods as enthusiastically as he can at seven in the morning. “Well, climb up here on the step stool, and I’ll tell you what to do.” Blaine clambers up and looks in awe at the ingredients and everything else on the counter.

“What do I do first, Grandma?”

 

ii. _Dozen_

 _Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

Blaine reaches over to his alarm clock and hits the button to stop it making noise. The numbers on the LED screen read 7:00 am, and he groans a little before forcing his body out of bed. He grabs some clothes from the dresser -- t-shirt, boxers, jeans, hoodie, socks, sneakers by the bedroom door -- and shrugs them on. He shuffles into the kitchen and pulls out two bowls, two cereal boxes, and milk. He pours the Honey Nut Cheerios in his bowl and the Cocoa Puffs into Patrick’s bowl. Around the time when he’s starting to worry that Patrick won’t have enough time to eat breakfast before they both have to leave for school, the 10-year-old careens into the kitchen, pours milk over the cereal, and scarfs down the whole bowl in about two minutes.

“Come on, Blaine, we’re going to be late,” he says plaintively. Blaine grins ruefully and the two of them walk out their bikes, Blaine locking the empty house behind them.

“Race you to school!” Blaine says to Patrick once they’re both on their bikes. He never goes too fast, but he always manages to stay just slightly ahead of his brother until they get to the elementary school. “Have a good day, short stuff,” he says as his brother locks up his bike and heads into school.

Then Blaine bikes off towards the middle school, much less excited for the day ahead than his brother had been, already dreading the day’s teasing.

 

iii. _Quatorze_

The last Thanksgiving break Blaine ever spends in Maine is a lonely one. Patrick and their parents have gone to visit relatives in Connecticut, but apparently Blaine would have caused too much disruption just being there if he had gone with them -- more than his absence will, anyways. So instead, he gets up Thursday morning, and bakes himself an apple tart. It was one of the last things Grandma Siobhan taught him to make before she died, and making it always reminds him of her. He’d rather think about her right now than the relatives (parents) who disapprove of him. He knows she was proud of him.

 

iv. _Quarter_

The first year the Warblers compete on the show choir circuit they end up in a weird division that means they’re competing for Regionals against groups from Western Pennsylvania in Pittsburgh. They don’t win, but afterward they get to stay at Wes’ family’s house in the city rather than make the three and a half hour bus trip back that night. In the morning, Blaine wakes before everyone else except Wes, as per usual; the two of them then sneak quietly to the kitchen where they make enough scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast to feed a small army. They work in companionable silence, easily moving around each other in the spacious kitchen until the food is ready. No one’s in the house besides the Warblers -- Wes’ parents spend a lot of time abroad -- so when they’re ready, Blaine sneaks to the door of the room the rest of the Warblers are in and shouts (with the full power of his singer’s lungs):

“BREAKFAST!”

The rest of the boys tumble over each other to rush into the kitchen like a herd of stampeding elephants as soon as they hear his voice. Blaine, anticipating this, ducks to the side of the doorway and laughs delightedly.

 

v. _Going on Seventeen_

When Blaine awakes the morning after the first annual New Directions Summer Planning Meeting -- also known as ‘the sleepover and pool party at Brittany’s house in the middle of the summer’ -- he discovers everyone still in their sleeping bags or on their couches with the exception of Brittany herself; he’d expected her to still be entangled with Santana by the entertainment center, but the only person near Santana is Mercedes, who’s flopped over Santana’s legs in what looks like a really uncomfortable position. Blaine wanders towards where he thinks he remembers the kitchen being, and sure enough, there she is, pulling what seems like an absurd number of Pillsbury cinnamon roll containers out of the fridge. She jumps a little when she sees him.

“Oh, hi, Blaine Warbler,” she says in a quiet voice. “Do you want to help? I always have cinnamon rolls after a sleepover, and my parents left enough for everybody. We can start them now and then they’ll be ready when everybody else wakes up.”

“Sure,” Blaine replies, charmed despite -- or perhaps because of -- Brittany’s inability to remember his real last name. “But I’ve never made these before.”

“Never?” she asks, looking shocked. “But they’re amazing. Lord Tubbington eats, like, three of them every time I make a tube.”

“My grandmother taught me how to bake a lot of things from scratch, so I’ve never really needed to do it this way. But I totally want to help you -- what do you need me to do?” Blaine replies, shrugging.

“Well, you grease the cake pans, and I’ll open the tubes, and then I’ll show you how to do the rest, okay?” Brittany sounds really excited to be able to teach Blaine something, and it reminds him that he’s been meaning to ask her for help with his dancing for ages.

“Sure.” They get to work, greasing the pans and opening the containers and putting the individual rolls in the pans, before finally putting them in the preheated oven. Once Brittany’s closed the oven door on the rolls and set the timer, Blaine catches her attention again. “Hey, Brittany?” She turns towards him, curious. “I was just wondering if you could maybe help me with my dancing. I’m okay at grooving along to the music, but I’m not very good at doing choreography.”

A brilliant smile lights up Brittany’s face. “I’d love to! What do you want to learn first?”

 

i. _Eighteen_

The morning after Blaine’s eighteenth birthday, he wakes up in Kurt’s bed, pleasantly sore and drowsy. He’s not sure what woke him -- it’s already later than he usually wakes up, but on the rare occasions he does sleep late he tends to sleep until noon or one. This time, though, it’s about ten in the morning, and he finds himself awake for no particular reason. He starts to climb out of bed, intent on finding his boyfriend, but then Kurt walks through the bedroom door with a tray of food, and Blaine realizes that the tantalizing smell of whatever’s under the metal dome must be what woke him. Kurt -- looking amazing in his gorgeous silk pajamas -- brings the food over to the bed and climbs back in with Blaine.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, giving Blaine a brief kiss. “I made you breakfast.”

“Smells delicious. What is it?” Kurt lifts the lid off the tray with a dramatic flourish, revealing two of the fluffiest stacks of french toast Blaine has ever seen, complete with powdered sugar, fresh cut-up strawberries, a ramekin of butter, and a carafe of what looks like real maple syrup -- the kind he hasn’t been able to find outside New England pretty much ever. He can’t quite believe the effort Kurt seems to have gone to for him, but he appreciates it. “Thank you,” he says, pulling Kurt in for a kiss. “It’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Kurt replies with a grin. “Go ahead, try it.” Blaine digs into his stack of toast while Kurt picks up his own knife and fork to do the same. The minute Blaine looks around for something to drink, Kurt’s there with what must be fresh-squeezed orange juice. Blaine looks at him in wonder.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I glad for whatever it is,” he says. Kurt ducks his head a little before responding.

“The feeling’s mutual, you know. You do this sort of thing for people all the time. I just wanted to give a little something back to you.” He smirks a little. “Now finish your breakfast. The house is only empty for another 5 hours, and we can totally do something in that amount of time.”

Blaine eats the rest of his breakfast quickly and sets it carefully on the desk across the room before coming back to bed and pouncing on a laughing Kurt. “I love you so much,” he says, gazing down at his amazing boyfriend. Kurt reaches up to caress Blaine’s cheek.

“I love you, too,” he replies, before pulling Blaine down into a tender kiss.


End file.
